


Flamin'Hot Flavor

by Yellow_Mellow



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Doritos are a metaphor for life, Drunk Confession, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Hunk (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Hunk (Voltron) is a Ray of Sunshine, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron) Fluff, LITERALLY, Lance (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance love Doritos, Lion King quotes, M/M, Now I need to drink, Past Allura/Lance (Voltron), Post Season 8, Soft Keith/Lance (Voltron), Spicy kiss, Who don't love?, keith is so gay for Lance, spoiler final season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 10:09:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18247685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yellow_Mellow/pseuds/Yellow_Mellow
Summary: "So imagine you've always had and only wanted Cool Ranch in your pantry and in your life. What happens if you have a sudden craving for tasting the Flamin'Hot?""Lance are you drunk?"“And then why the Flamin’Hot and not, who knows, the Blaze? What do these tortillas even have so special to possess the power to wipe out a whole life feeling?Sure, they are fascinating, with that glowing red packaging and the promise of a hot and spicy taste, like an adventure in a desert, like fire. But why not to buy the type of snack you’ve always loved, why changing your own habits? Wouldn’t it be like some sort of betraying the Cool Ranch?”“Buddy…”Lance’s voice lowers a bit while he feels a knot tightening his throat and his eyes becoming wet.“Wouldn’t it be like killing each single happy memory lived in their company? And what if one day the Cool Ranch were withdrawn from the market and I couldn’t ever taste them again, would it really be worth it for a stupid whim?”“Buddy, we aren’t talking about Doritos anymore, are we?”





	Flamin'Hot Flavor

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know what this is about.  
> Lance is a precious boy, and I wanted Doritos so hard.
> 
> Have pity on me, my English is really bad!  
> Thank you @Happy_Pumpkin for taking care of the translation of my story and for being a wonderful person, girl I owe you a beer <3  
> Enjoy it

 

 

 

Lance stares at the display rack in frustration, wishing he could burn it down with his eyes.  
He wanted some Doritos.  
Why then something so simple had suddenly become such a gargantuan effort?  
Truth is he craved Doritos for so long while he was in space but never stopped to think that each wish is the direct consequence of a decision - conscious or not.  
And now that he is back on Earth again this awareness weighs like a million pounds on his shoulders, because he really is unable to make decisions.

Sea or sky. Pyjama or nightgown. Pokemòn blue or Pokemòn red. Earthling family or space family. Girls or boys.

 

Then there he is, in front of the supermarket snack display rack, staring in shock rows and rows of coloured and probably unnecessary packages - because, even after an intergalactic war, humanity isn't still able to figure out what respecting their own planet means - and yet he comes up with nothing.

Fiery Habanero, White Cheddar, Nacho Cheese, Poppin' Jalapeño. Really, Taco Flavour?  
He runs a hand through his hair, pulling out some brown strands in opposite directions messing up even more his already embarrassing sleepyhead but, ehi, thanks a lot, it is simply a miracle he had the decency to wear a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and rinse his revitalising mask, because this is one of the nights when persistent questions assault him, questions he doesn't want and doesn’t know the answer.  
Questions stealing his sleep and care freeness, if he ever had some.  
Questions that lead him to drown any possible answer in three Maragaritas in a row, because... _Dios_ , he misses so much the reassuring burning sensation of some Tequila running down his throat.

He pulls out his mobile from his jeans' back pocket, staring numbly at the screen. Then he lets himself slide along the cereal rack and, laying limply on the ground he calls the only person he knows can help him in such a situation.

From below, the enormous variety of Doritos is terrifying.  
He can’t figure out how a few years ago most part of the population couldn't purchase the basic goods while now being back to that status of throwaway consumerism forces you to choose among at least twenty kind of tortillas.  
Well, they are still triangles made of corn, right?

He steeples his fingers on his tight, unable to stop even when he hears the dialling tone on the other end of the phone, a clear sign that at least he doesn’t have to wait for an answer sit on linoleum until the next day, because he can’t even contemplate the idea to leave this place empty-handed, nope, not a chance at all.  
Let alone with the wrong snack.  
A click and a sleepy groan on the other end make him flinch, relieved.

"Oh jeez, Lance! Do you even realize it's three o'clock in the morning, right?"  
"Buddy, you must help me! This is a _Bologna Incident_ level code, I couldn't wait"

Through the phone he manages to hear Hunk swear in a low voice, plus a faint sound of sheets and a door closing with a soft click.

"Shit, we haven't used that code since the Garrison times! What's happening? Do I have to come and get you? Are you hurt?"  
"Cool Ranch or Flamin'Hot?"  
"Sorry what?"  
"Doritos. Cool Ranch or Flamin'Hot? I cannot choose which one to take, I think I've been stuck in front of this rack for at least two hours and a half"

 

A heavy silence falls on the other end of the line, broken by the happy pop music coming from the loudspeakers of the 24/7 convenience store.  
Lance starts again to nervously move his leg up and down while a torrent of words pours out on his microphone, unable to wait for an answer from his best friend, anxiety shattering his stomach already upset because of the alcohol.

"Then suppose it's been a whole life you crave and eat just Cool Ranch - yeah, before you tell me I already know you dote on Jacked Doritos, but this is just an hypothesis"  
"So imagine you've always had and only wanted Cool Ranch in your pantry and in your life. What happens if you have a sudden craving for tasting the Flamin'Hot?"

Lance starts gesturing heatedly while he speaks fast, so fast that words get blurred inside his mouth, at a point that a sleep-walker passing by with his shopping basket half-full ends up shaking his head, amused by the memory of his own nights in youth spent wandering around those same aisles, gripped by the munchies or the need of caffeine.

"Lance are you drunk?"  
“And then why the Flamin’Hot and not, who knows, the Blaze? What do these tortillas even have so special to possess the power to wipe out a whole life feeling?  
Sure, they are fascinating, with that glowing red packaging and the promise of a hot and spicy taste, like an adventure in a desert, like fire. But why not to buy the type of snack you’ve always loved, why changing your own habits? Wouldn’t it be like some sort of betraying the Cool Ranch?”  
“Buddy…”

Lance’s voice lowers a bit while he feels a knot tightening his throat and his eyes becoming wet.

“Wouldn’t it be like killing each single happy memory lived in their company? And what if one day the Cool Ranch were withdrawn from the market and I couldn’t ever taste them again, would it really be worth it for a stupid whim?”  
“Buddy, we aren’t talking about Doritos anymore, are we?”

Hunk’s voice is a sweet whisper in his ear, a sensitive and reassuring sound as it is their friendship.  
Lance covers his eyes reddened from crying and wipes his tears away, fingertips lingering on the small light blue marks that he hasn’t figured out yet if love or hate them, but that anyway remind him of her and of what he won’t be able to have anymore.  
Or maybe he has never really had.

“Where are you?”  
“In the 24/7 in front of my apartment”  
“Wait for me there, I’m already in my car”

 

Maybe Lance dozes off, or maybe he falls in a sort of alcoholic numbness, because when he opens his eyes again after what it seems to him less than a minute, Hunk is there, sit next to him, with his pyjamas’ grey and yellow trousers on and shoes without socks.  
He smiles at him softly, before popping him in the back of his head. Not too hard, but enough to let Lance stunned and bruised.

“Hay! Why do you even hit me?”  
“It doesn’t matter, because it has passed anyway, right?”  
“Yeah, but it still hurts”

Lance rubs behind his head and stares frowning at his best friend and his stupid teasing smile. He will never ever ask for help to Hunk, maybe next time he will call Pidge.  
Maybe not.

“Once a wise guy told me the past can hurt: you can run away from it, or maybe… learn something”

A big hand slides again in his direction, as to hit him again, but this time Lance is ready and springs sideways, avoiding Hunk’s playful punch on his shoulder.  
He stares at him confused, while he winks in his direction.

“Seen?”  
“Have you just used a Disney classic against me?”  
“Only the finest quotes for my bro”  
“Oh Hunk”

Lance lets his head slide on the big boy shoulder, wrapping a long arm around his waist.  
Hunk gives him some minutes of comfort before putting him back on his feet and push into his arms a bag of Flamin'Hot.

“My treat. I think you already have someone in mind to taste them with, right?”  
Lance gives him a shy smile, before squeezing him in a thankful hug.  
“And Lance – Hunk goes straight to the check-out with a killer look – tear me from Shay’s arms again in the middle of the night and you’ll forget garlic knots forever”

 

*

 

Keith wakes up startled when he hears someone knocking at the door.  
Panting he moves Kosmo dead weight from his feet, since he doesn’t show any sign of intention to move; what good is having a space wolf at home if he’s too lazy even to keep watch?

He drags himself as a sleep-walker towards the entrance, daydreaming the best way to get rid of anyone who bothers him at the crack of down on Sunday.  
When he cracks the door open to see who it is in no time he finds himself clutched by a lethal grip of tanned arms, holding him as if their very own life depends on it.

“Lance what the hell…?”  
“Keith, my partner, my Flamin'Hot Flavor”  
“Oh God are you drunk?”  
“I plead guilty as charged your honor.”

Keith wriggles and pushes him away from his chest of a few inches, undecided whether be amused or bothered by the whole situation.  
The only certain thing is that since he has come back from his two years isolated with Krolia he can’t see the Blue Paladin the same ever again, to the point of not being annoyed by his presence even in those circumstances.  
Or maybe having his warm body longed for years pressed against his own contributes to put him in that sweet state of mind.

“What do you want Lance?”  
“I’ve decided to try this new Doritos taste, but I’m afraid to screw everything up”  
With frantic gestures he waves in front of him a huge bag of tortillas.  
“Are you afraid to spoil everything tasting some chips?”  
“Keithhhh I’ve never done it before, not alone at least. What if it causes me some kind of permanent trauma and I won’t be able to eat snacks for the rest of my life? You must help me buddy, you cannot abandon me!”

Exasperated, Keith looks at the huge blue eyes showing a dramatic expression.  
Then he rolls his eyes, regretting to have fallen in love with such an idiot.

“Lance do you remember my lactose intolerance?”  
“Fuck. To hell with metaphors”

Lance drops the package from his hands, throwing it away to be able to freely sink his fingers in Keith’s long hair. Then he gets closer and closer to his face, slowly, observing every expression in search of any form of rejection or doubt.  
But he finds none.  
Keith closes the distance between them, sealing his lips in a confused kiss.  
He hasn’t understood a bit of Lance’s odd metaphor, but at the moment he isn’t interested in understanding it, because his only thought is focused on those full lips pressed against his, and that body under his hands and those deep eyes looking at him as if he was the brightest star in the sky – or the most intriguing snack ever.

And, Jesus, all of this is a thousand times better than he could ever imagine, with Lance moaning in his mouth when their tongues touch, and he feels a huge heat warming his body starting from his lips…  
Too much heat.  
It burns and itches and makes his eyes water, and he absolutely needs to drink or he knows he’s going to choke.  
He moves away from him with a groan of distress, before running towards the kitchen sink and hit the tap.

For a moment Lance stares at him in confusion before starting to laugh and laugh holding his belly, in such an idiot way that only a drunk kind of Lance can possibly do.

“Maybe after all it wasn’t a very good idea eating a whole package before coming here”

 

 


End file.
